


snippets

by ComplimentaryCuller



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComplimentaryCuller/pseuds/ComplimentaryCuller
Summary: Just some bits I wrote for the prompt where you set your music on shuffle and write something inspired by the song, but you only have until the song ends to write it.





	snippets

You weave your fingers together, and look up into his indigo eyes.

He smiles at you, and you feel as if you could die of pity. You're breathing each other's air, and he caresses your cheek. “Told you I’d come for you,” he says.

You smile at him. “I never doubted it.”

  
\--------------------------------  


When you first joined forces, you and Gamzee, you were sure he'd try to stab you in the back, screw you over, destroy your revolution in a pusher beat if given half a chance after he didn't need you anymore. You never thought that you would fall in pity with each other.

He shines, when he's in battle, he looks like he's dancing to a beat you can't place, and he pitied you back, somehow.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


He makes you crazy, drives you up the wall, you don't know what you're feeling, but you never want it to stop.

You fit together like broken glass, you feel like you could snuff out stars with him.

He's beautiful, the pitiful bastard, and you can't believe how lucky you are. As the two of you stand in front of your army, your soldiers, the rebellion you raised from dust, you grin at him, and his sharp fangs gleam as he smiles back.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


California had always called you, and you never knew why, until now.

He's stunning, this shambling disaster of an indigo, and you never want to leave. He's a painter, and it's beautiful, and he never stops telling you how good your books are, and your genetic donors had told you you wouldn't make it, but you could do anything with him.

  
\--------------------------------

  
You're walking together, at the edge of the sea, under the dawn sky, and you're holding hands, and every so often you look up at him, catching his pitying gaze, and smile at him. You managed to wrestle him into fresh clothes and mostly tame his hair, and his paint is crisp and neat, and you think that even the more volatile of the Sufferists will accept that he's your moirail, given time.

  
\--------------------------------

 

He's always been there, your perfect clown, ever since you exchanged handles, and you don't know where you'd be without him. He holds you up, and you love him for it, this pitiful idiot.

“I never want to leave you,” he whispers to you as you spoon in your pile.

“And I’d never let you,” you whisper back.

 

\--------------------------------

  
The first time you met Gamzee, you held a gun to his head, and forced a surrender from the entire Mirthful church, which lasted all of about three hours before he flipped it on you and commandeered your ship, forcing you and your troops to bail and utterly wreck it. By the time you next met in person, you were negotiating a treaty. It's funny, how serendipity works, you muse, as you settle in for your weekly movie night.

You would do it all again in a heartbeat, to be here.

\--------------------------------

  
He's got you hooked, he reels you in like a swim-beast on a line, and he doesn't even know it, doesn't even realize how pitiful he is. If he leaves, you think you might fall apart, your tiniest star, your sugar-bright crab. Some days you feel as if he's the only thing holding you together, and you'd kill anyone who came for him, anyone.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


When Gamzee told you he was accepted to the subjugulators, you congratulated him, and grit your teeth even as you packed your husktop and went to join your ancestor’s followers. Even if you met on a battlefield, you wouldn't stop, you told yourself that over and over, but here you are, the two of you just staring at each other amidst the battle, and your diamond is shattering before your eyes.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


 _Just another Highblood,_ you told yourself as you brushed off his comments. _Just another Highblood,_ you thought as he paraded his vulnerabilities before you. _Just another Highblood,_ you muttered to yourself as he threw himself at you, begging in every way but verbally. _Just another Highblood;_ you realized it wasn't true, when he killed for you, over and over again, when he protected you, when he cared. Not just another one. Yours.

  
\--------------------------------

  
You can't stand it, how he charms everyone he meets, although you don't blame him, even for spreading diamonds everywhere. No, you hate that everyone _else_ tries to do it back, when he's _yours_ , and yours _only_. He's yours, your sugar-sharp crab, and you'd’ve thought you'd made it clear, but apparently not.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


You can't focus without him, you drift away, float aimlessly, but he always brings you back. The two of you splash around in the waves in front of your hive, and you can see his gills flutttering under his shirt, breathing in the cool water, but you don't say anything, only grin crookedly as he asks what the fuck you're smiling about.

He hasn't told you yet, even though he's terrible at hiding his tears when he cries over his rom coms, and his shell-beast neck shirts are too short to fully cover his gills, but you can wait. He trusts so little, your crab, and you haven't even told him, never admitted to him how pitiful he is to you, and if you told him that you knew about it before doing that he'd feel pressured and scared, and you never want to do that. So you'll wait for him to make the first move, to trust you a bit more.

As long as he's here, you could do anything.

  
\--------------------------------

 

He's always acting like he's fine, like he can take care of everyone and never stop, but in the quiet moments, away from everyone, you need only touch him, and he falls to pieces for you. He thinks he can't show weakness, not once, or they'll think him weak, his troops, his hard-won empire, he tries to bury himself in his work, thinks he can just ignore it and it'll go away, but you both know that isn't true, no matter how hard he tries.

  
\--------------------------------  
  
He's roped you into cooking with him, the stupid clown, and you've got powdered sugar in your hair and he's got flour on his face, and the two of you are laughing so hard that you didn't notice the milk boiling over and smoking on the burner until the fire alarm went off, and then you had to scramble to turn it off and he started scrubbing at it, and the wet towel almost caught flame, so the two of you are lounging on the couch together laughing about past fuck ups, and you never want to leave.  

  
\--------------------------------  
  


The two of you pick your way through the city together, and he's smiling, lucidly, for the first time in a while, and you're blushing under the thick grey concealer you always wear in public, you have to be, your face is so hot, and when he asks what you're smiling about you shove him and furiously deny it, and he scruffles your hair. It's a warmblood section of the city, and most aren't even hiding their staring. For once, you don't feel scared going out, and you're so giddy with it you kiss him, and he smiles against your lips.

  
\--------------------------------  
  


You were frantic, searching for him, your miracle-blooded palest, and near ripped the Empire apart, looking for him, the rebellion at the back your mind, and now he's back, rebellion won without him, and somehow you're a war hero, but it doesn't matter, without him. He's like a ghost from what they did, and you killed them quick and easy before you knew, when they should have died slow, for doing this. As you walk away from his temporary respite block, from his shell, from his _ghost,_ you don't cry. You don't think you can, anymore.

  
\--------------------------------  
  
You're holding him back, you know, your crab, keeping him weighed down, and you _try_ , you _do_ , but you fall apart without him, and you wish you didn't, wish you could return the favor, but you _can't,_ not yet, but you'll get there someday, if it kills you, just to have him lean on you _once_ , and not have to carry the burden himself. You'd die a thousand times over for him, and you wish you could show him.

  
\--------------------------------

  
You couldn't stand it if he left, you _couldn't,_ but you know that you both have to go, he has his fate, and you yours, his side of the war and you yours, but the thought of leaving just plain sucks the mirth from you, and he still thinks you'll be going with him, at his side, when you don't even know which side you're on, which is best, and it tears you apart.


End file.
